Al Capone and Duncan Malone
by MIZ.katie
Summary: It is 1924, and Duncan, nephew of Al Capone, has just saved Courtney's life in the middle of a shoot-out between rival gangs. Since she was the witness to the crime, Duncan has now kidnapped her and is keeping her in his gang's hideout. Will innocent Courtney be able to escape to get help from the police, or will she end up falling in love with a gangster?
1. Recognize Me?

**(Author's Note: I wrote the original "Al Capone and Duncan Malone" in my former account, Katie4cheer, although I have created this new account to re-do some of my old stories. I will be using the same plots for this story, although my writing style has improved over the 3 years that have gone by since I first began writing. Hopefully you like the new improvements and extra detail that I added, so feel free to leave me a review to let me know what you think! Any suggestions would also be helpful! Thank you!)**

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Courtney Pembrooke was expertly navigating the cracked sidewalks of downtown Chicago in her brand new Maryjane high heels. It was 1924, and her long, silk sky-blue dress was swishing around her knees with each step she took. Her pin-curled brown hair frantically swished across her tanned face in the chilly breeze of the Windy City. The sky was gray from a storm was blowing in over Lake Michigan. Smooth paper currency rubbed in Courtney's bra, the only safe place where she keeps her money when she travels to the poor neighborhoods of Chicago such as this one. Her black heels click-clacked on the sidewalk, as she walked down her familiar route to the only place in Chicago that sold the absolute best produce.

Courtney was headed to the street corners of Michigan Avenue and Randolph Street. The salty air from Lake Michigan nipped at her bare arms. A shiver ran up her spine and she quickened her pace so she wouldn't end up getting rained on. As Courtney neared the fruit stand of the street vendor, she reached down the V-neck cut of her dress to pull out a crisp dollar bill from her ample cleavage. A shiny pearl necklace glittered just underneath Courtney's thin collarbones. The fruit stands downtown seemed to have better apples than in the city. Courtney had walked all the way across town from her home, which was a penthouse in one of the richest apartment buildings in Chicago, because her father was currently on a business trip to Wall Street and he had taken the Ford Model-T with him.

Courtney handed the dollar bill over to Frank Gardetta, the friendly fruit stand salesman. "Nice day today, isn't it, Miss Pembrooke?" Frank asked her, pocketing the dollar bill and placing only the finest apples in a rucksack for his best customer. He flashed her a bright white smile as he shined the apples one by one.

"Nice day? I should think not. I despise this chilly weather," Courtney replied. Another gust of wind comes, ruffling her hair one again and making goosebumps pop up on her arms. She lifted an arm and tucked a lock of hair behind her ears with her long, slender fingers. Large pearl earrings shone on her ears as well, matching her necklace.

"Well, you should have worn that nice white fur coat you wore last winter. Today seems like an appropriate day to have worn it," Frank tells her, tying a loose knot on the bag and handing it to Courtney.

She takes the rough hemp bag and converses, "Nonsense. That fur coat is much too old. Daddy will buy me a new one once he gets back from Wall Street."

"You are very fortunate, Miss Pembrooke. May I hope to see you again next week for more apples?"

"Most definitely," Courtney answers, offering a polite smile and taking a step backwards, "Have a nice day, Mister Gardetta." She turns and retreats down the sidewalk, back the way she came.

"You too, Miss Pembrooke!" Frank calls after her. Courtney smiles to herself, making a steady beat with the clicking of her high heels. Frank was a nice teenager, roughly the same age as Courtney. He was cute enough, with well-groomed blonde hair, warm chocolate eyes, an amazing personality, and not to mention that smile. But he lived in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Chicago, working as a street vendor to raise money for his ever-growing family, and Daddy would never approve. Neither would Mother, even though she was much more understanding than Courtney's father. One's social class meant everything where Courtney was from.

Courtney waited at the edge of the sidewalk, near an intersection quite a way's away from Frank's stand. There were barely any cars were driving around; not many people in downtown Chicago could afford them. However, there were many pedestrians out and about, many of which would give her odd looks for a girl like her walking around in their neighborhood, where she obviously did not belong. A fat raindrop fell on Courtney's shoulder, and she brushed it away before holding out one hand, palm up to the sky. She felt a couple more raindrops fall and she nervously looked both ways down the street. The few cars traveling down the street had passed, and Courtney desperately wanted to get home before rain could have the chance to ruin her suede high heels. She stepped off the curb into the street, speed-walking into the empty road.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out through the crisp fall air. Courtney froze in her tracks while she screamed, dropped the sack of apples, and shielded her head with her arms even though she had no idea where the gunfire was aimed at. She slowly lowered her arms when the rapid gunfire ceased; the crowd around her seemed to be in a daze as well. Squealing tires sounded from behind her, and she whipped around with a gasp. Other pedestrians leapt out of the street to avoid being hit by a tricked-out Model-T that was speeding right towards Courtney from the adjacent intersection. She was frozen in shock, alone in the middle of the road.

Courtney parted her lips to let out another blood-curdling scream as her big brown eyes widened in fear. Before her scream could pierce the air, Courtney heard footsteps pounding on hard ground and she was tackled from behind onto the hard sidewalk. The breath was knocked out of her and back of her head slammed onto the hard cobblestone. Courtney moaned in pain. The weight of her rescuer came off of her chest, but she could only see the man's silhouette due to the dark spots that swam in her vision from her throbbing headache.

When the spots cleared, she noticed that a very handsome teenager was straddling her with his knees on either side of her hips. He was obviously poor; he wore black dress pants, but they were filthy and had a couple snags. His white cotton button-up was surprisingly clean compared to his pants, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing tan forearms. The shirt was taunt against his chest due to his muscular build. A few white buttons were unbuttoned at the collar and a silky black tie dangled loosely from around his neck. His jaw-line was sharp and clean-shaven. The mystery man had a short, well-trimmed haircut with hair as dark as his pants.

He wasn't looking at her, however. His arm was straight out to his side, pointed at the retreating car. A small, black pistol was in his hand. He shot three shots in a row at the car and his arm hardly shook at the recoil from the powerful weapon. Courtney flinched from underneath him as the sound of the gunfire. The man's other hand was at his side, curled into a fist as he concentrated on aiming.

Eventually the car was too far away to see, much less shoot at. The young man slipped his pistol into an empty belt loop and stood up from his knees, freeing Courtney. "Darling," the man said, extending one hand down to Courtney who, always being polite, took it. Once he had helped her back to her feet, however, her vision became fuzzy and she became dizzy and light-headed. She stumbled on the uneven cobblestone and she immediately felt the young man's hand low on her back, steadying her. Once her vision finally cleared, Courtney finally stepped away from him.

The streets were now clear of cars. Nobody had stayed to watch the shoot-out, and all the dirty windows of the tenement buildings had been firmly closed. Front doors had been shut and locked and almost all pedestrians had retreated indoors. Abandoned apples were strewn across the road, some of them smashed flat from the car's tires. It seemed that Courtney and the mysterious teenager who had just saved her life were the only ones on the face of the earth.

"Well," Courtney said shakily, not knowing where to begin. She smoothed the wrinkles on her blue dress and took another step away from the teen. "I must thank you profusely for saving my life. Had I any money on me, I would pay you for your efforts. However, I must be going. My mother is expecting me," Courtney tells him. "So, good day to you, Sir." She turned around with a curt nod and started walking away from him.

Before Courtney could barely make it a couple feet away, the young man had already wrapped his large hand around her thin, delicate wrist in a firm grasp. "Sorry, but... I can't let ya do that," he stated calmly, spinning her around. Courtney yanked her arm away from him and held her wrist in her opposite hand as if he had shocked her. Now that she was facing him, she was struck by his eyes. She slowly lowered her arms to her sides.

They were a bright, bright blue. Actually, his eyes had a bit of green to them. With the blue and the green combined, that made his eyes look more teal, or maybe a dark turquoise. His eyes made her knees weak. They appeared as if he were intensely studying her, as if he was trying to predict her next move. Courtney opened her mouth to say something, but his eyes just mesmerized her. She blinked three times, rapidly, and finally sputtered, "What?"

"You've seen too much. I'm sorry, but you can't go home. For now, anyway," he replied, slightly shrugging his shoulders. Courtney lusted to hear him say more. His voice was velvety and warm, despite the fact he was telling her she couldn't go home, which was absolutely ridiculous.

"Wha- why? This is absurd!" Courtney exclaimed with her jaw dropping open.

"I told you already. You saw too much. Now come with me," he says. He kept eye contact with her for just one moment longer than he had to before taking hold of her wrist once more, pulling her with him down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of her home. Courtney was speechless. Except she had loads to say. She kept trying to pull her wrist out of his strong grip without much success.

"What on earth are you _talking_ about? I _saw_ too much? What on earth does that even _mean_? Why are you-"

Courtney suddenly stopped in her tracks, mouth and eyes wide open in revelation. This time, she really was speechless. The young man, who still had a hold of her wrist, turned around to see what was keeping her. "What?" he asked, not out of curiosity but out of impatiency.

Courtney blinked twice. Her full lips opened and closed, looking for the right words to describe the epiphany that just came to her. "Oh. My. Goodness," she breathed.

"What?!" he asks again, even more impatient than before. Time was wasting. The cops would come soon if they didn't get out of here.

"You… You're one of those gangsters my Daddy warned me about!" Courtney exclaimed in horror. He rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, babe, I woulda thought you woulda figured that out by now," the man replied. He let go of Courtney's wrist, not afraid of having her run off because she was frozen to the spot in shock. He took a small step backwards and slightly held his arms out to the side. "I'm Duncan Malone, notorious gangster-slash-bootlegger of Chicago. My accomplices smuggle barrels of liquor under frozen rivers from somewhere in Canada to Detroit. Then they transfer 'da liquor from Detroit to here in Chicago, where I then ship the illegal booze to various speakeasies around the country, namely to St. Louis and various western cities. Recognize me from 'da papers?" He winked at her after his last remark.

Courtney's eyes widened and she suddenly began screaming. Duncan's eyes widened and he lunged for her, clamping her mouth shut with one hand. His other hand on her lower back held her close so she couldn't escape and continue attracting attention. She struggled, kicking and mumbling profanities into Duncan's palm.

Then she simultaneously bit down on the skin of his open palm and kicked him in the crotch. "Dammit!" Duncan shouted, going down. Courtney scrambled away, panting hard as she sprinted down the sidewalk as fast as her high heels could take her. "Help! Help me! I'm being kidnapped!" Courtney screamed at the top of her lungs. She glanced behind her to confirm that she was not being pursued, but she knew she had to get out of there soon. "Help me!"

Courtney turned her gaze back to the direction she was running. She gasped as Duncan appeared out of an alley-way right in front of her, and she accidentally crashed into his chest. His arms immediately wound around her, confining her to a very tight space. She could smell cigarette smoke in Duncan's shirt. Courtney felt cold metal press into the middle of her back and she started trembling. Her eyes filled with tears, thinking it was over for her.

"Don't think I won't shoot, because I will. I've shot an' killed a countless number of guys in my life before, an' don't you go thinkin' for a _second _I won't shoot a girl. So you better fuckin' keep your big mouth _shut_, an' I'll let you live. Understand?" Duncan threatens in a low voice right in her ear.

Courtney sniffs away her tears and nods, since her mouth was buried in Duncan's chest, so she couldn't talk. "Glad we understand each other," he says, slipping the gun back into his belt loop. Then, before she knew what was happening, he swiftly picked Courtney up by the waist and placed her on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Duncan started walking down the sidewalk to a part of Chicago that Courtney had never explored before.

"Put me down, you ogre! I can _walk_, you know!" Courtney protested, not daring to raise her voice so she could avoid as much trouble as possible from Duncan.

"Yea, whateva. You'll juss run away if I setcha down," Duncan tells her in his thick Chicago accent, even though he knew she'd do nothing of the sort after he'd threatened her with his gun like that.

"But all of downtown Chicago will be able to see up my dress!" Courtney protested.

"Thanks for reminding me. I'll have to check out the view sometime," he responded, smirking even though she couldn't see his face.

"Ugh! You are such a pervert!" Courtney shrieked, pounding on his back with her tiny fists.

"Ohh, dat really hurts me, Princess," Duncan says sarcastically as he walks down a dim alley.

"_What_ did you call me?" Courtney demanded.

"A princess."

"I am _not_ a princess!"

"Sure, sure. Have you _seen _what you're wearing?"


	2. Captive in Log Cabin

Courtney had given up on trying to keep track of where Duncan was carrying her. Courtney hardly knew the streets of downtown Chicago - she only knew the way to and from Frank's produce stand. After being carried through a series of alleys behind tenement buildings full of trash and rats, they were now in some neighborhood of downtown Chicago that was even more poor than the one that Frank lived in. They were in the slums. She was now far away from any familiar roads, and she was completely lost. Even if she could escape, she wouldn't know which direction is home. And if she tried, she'd most likely get lost and end up getting raped by some homeless street urchin. Courtney silenced a gasp with her palm.

_Would Duncan rape her? _That was also a possibility... There was no way for her to know what a criminal like Duncan would be capable of. And he was already perverted enough - over the course of the past 10 minutes, Duncan had already squeezed her ass through her dress _twice_. That obviously earned him a jab in the back of his head with her elbow, but that only made him chuckle.

Duncan finally stopped walking halfway through a dark alley with drooping clothes lines full of faded clothing above their heads. There was a rust-orange fire escape next to a huge pile of stinking trash. "Climb up," Duncan ordered her, placing her back on her feet and nodding to the short ladder protruding from the fire escape.

"Seriously?" Courtney whined, self-consciously smoothing down her dress with her hands. She was fed up with having this beast lay his hands on her. Who knew what nasty thoughts were floating around inside his head.

"Need I show you how serious?" Duncan replied threateningly, his hand reaching for his gun. He was getting anxious that the cops would start searching surrounding areas further away from the shoot-out. There were bound to have been some witnesses to Courtney's kidnapping that would tell them the way that Duncan took her.

Courtney let out a soft whimper and she craned back her neck to look up at the ladder, which she already knew was way out of her reach. She turned and glanced at Duncan, who was intensely staring her down with his smoldering eyes. He grabbed her tiny waist from behind, his large hands almost completely encircling her. Then he effortlessly lifted her high enough so Courtney could grab hold of the bottom rung.

"Well... Are ya gonna get climbin' or are ya just gonna hang there?" Duncan demanded when he let go of her.

"I have absolutely no upper-body strength, if you must know," she informed him in a strained voice, trying to hold on to the metal bar even though the peeling rust was digging into her palms. Duncan sighed impatiently and rolled his eyes.

"Just pull yerself up. It's a ladder, it's not that hard," he told her. After a minute or two of struggle, Courtney managed to swing her legs and gather enough momentum to make it to the second rung. From there, she was able to lift a foot up onto the bottom rung and start climbing. Courtney finally pulled herself through the opening on the landing of the fire escape, but at the last second, she heard a loud rip. Courtney hurried to stand on the metal grated floor and looked at the back of her dress with a gasp.

There was a gash in her dress directly behind her hip. Through the curtains of blue fabric, her panties were completely exposed. Her smooth, tan butt cheek peeked out from her frilly, white lace lingerie. Duncan let out a long, low whistle from the ground below. Courtney snapped out of shock once she heard him and whirled around with her hands on her butt to hide the tear.

Duncan, meanwhile, made a vertical leap to grab hold of the bottom rung of the fire escape. He swiftly climbed up the ladder and met Courtney on the landing of the fire escape with a wink.

"Told'ja I'd get a chance to look up your dress," Duncan teased her, a smirk dancing across his lips. Courtney's jaw dropped open, and a pink blush lit up her round cheeks. She immediately slapped Duncan across the face, and his head snapped sideways.

Duncan slowly rubbed his square jaw with one hand, yet the bleach-white smirk was still plastered on his face. "I guess I kinda deserved that," he said with a low chuckle. "But damn, girl, you have a _really_ nice ass."

Courtney lifted a hand to slap him again, but Duncan spun on his heels and began sprinting up the rickety stairs. Pink-faced and embarrassed beyond belief, Courtney grabbed handfuls of sky-blue fabric and slightly lifted her dress so she could climb up the stairs without tripping. As they climbed higher up the fire escape, the breeze kept blowing cold wind up Courtney's dress. While climbing, Courtney noticed that the windows were all covered up from inside. By the time they reached the ninth floor, the old fire escape was beginning to creak and groan with every step.

Duncan hopped onto the concrete roof and held a hand out to Courtney. Indignantly, she ignored his offer of help, and she click-clacked across the concrete roof of the apartment building. She held her head high and walked with her fists clenched at her sides even though she knew her butt cheek was in clear view. "Ooh, the silent treatment, Princess?" Duncan asked with another smirk. She pointedly crossed her arms and refused to make eye contact with him. "Fine. If dat's how it'll be."

Duncan crossed the rooftop and rapped his knuckles hard on a solid oak door. A metal slat opened at eye level, revealing a pair of eyes that quickly studied Duncan and his guest. Then the slat quickly shut and the door swung open. A young man wearing the same dress pants as Duncan stood in the doorway, and he was wearing a tight white T-shirt and no tie. "What's up, Damien?" Duncan greeted the green-eyed, blonde boy while bumping fists. Damien held a cigarette that needed ashing in his hand.

"Nuthin' much, boss," Damien replied, grinning a pure white smile. "But who's the girl?"

Courtney glared at Damien for no apparent reason. "This _girl's _name happens to be Courtney Pembrooke, if you must know!" she cut in. Damien smirked at her attitude, which caused Courtney to scowl at him. _Do _all _gangsters know how to smirk?! _Because it was really starting to frustrate her.

"She's our temporary captive," Duncan slightly joked, stepping through the doorway into the dim stairwell. Duncan led Courtney down the staircase, which was lit by just one bare lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. Dust particles were floating around in the air, momentarily visible by the beams of light shining down. Duncan opened the wooden door at the bottom of the staircase open for Courtney to walk through, then he shut it behind them. Damien stayed in the stairwell, guarding the roof entrance.

They were in a huge room, with crates marked "Log Cabin". Courtney knew about Log Cabin. She read in the papers that it was what rumrunners and bootleggers were labeling illegal cases of whiskey, scotch, and other liquors before selling them to speakeasies. A handful of men were gradually waltzing around the room, marking the inventory on clipboards. When they looked up and saw it was Duncan, they gave him a respectful nod and went back to their work - but not before lingering their gaze on Courtney and her bare ass.

It seemed like more and more crates were being wheeled into the room through another door. Bare lightbulbs hung from the rafters littered with cobwebs. The windows were either boarded up with wood or had thick quilts nailed to them so the police couldn't see in. Duncan led Courtney through the door where more inventory was being brought in, down another flight of stairs, and into another room.

This room was full of empty glass bottles, corks and caps, empty crates, barrels of various kinds of liquor, and stickers. Courtney observed one of the Log Cabin bottles being made. A "Log Cabin" sticker was smoothed onto the bottle. Then liquor was poured from the barrels into the bottles. A cap was screwed onto the lid of the bottle, and then the bottles were packed into empty crates. A big red stamp labelled "Log Cabin" was plastered across the wooden boards of the crate. The windows in this room were blocked off, too.

The next couple floors resembled offices. Crates were stacked everywhere and delivery charts were tacked to the walls. Each cubicle had a radio playing softly, a telephone ringing off the hook, charts and graphs tacked to the walls, manila folders bulging with papers were laying on the green desks, and a huge map took up an entire wall. It was a map of the United States, with little lightbulbs representing major cities such as Los Angeles, St. Louis, NYC, Philadelphia, Houston, etc that were flashing red.

The next floor down was a huge living room and kitchen area. The living room had a huge radio, multiple sagging couches, a phonograph player, and bookshelves of records. There was no carpet, but there were many ratty rugs lined up together to try to cover the hardwood floor. Coffee tables at the center of the circle of couches were littered with overflowing ashtrays and picked-over newspapers - even a few Playboys. The kitchen was stocked. The cabinets were almost as full as Courtney's pantry back home, but that wasn't much considering how many accomplices Duncan had to feed compared to Courtney's house, where only her mother, father, and Courtney resided. The refrigerator was full of every kind of alcohol imaginable and then some. Above the rusted sink were leaning shelves full of whiskey and shot glasses.

The fourth floor consisted of just a long hallway - there were doors with labels down both sides of the hallway. Most of the labels said "Bunks of _, _, _, and _" but a couple labels said "Bathroom." At the very end of the hallway was the door marked "Duncan's Bunk," and he opened the door for Courtney.

"Well well well, Princess, here we are. Now you're gonna stay right in here while go an' take care of some business," Duncan stated, staring her directly in the eyes. "I don't wanna hear any trouble from you, got dat?"

Courtney nodded sweetly and flashed him her "I'm-so-innocent" smile. Duncan narrowed his eyes at her and he shut the heavy door. Courtney heard a door chain jingling outside as Duncan locked her inside his bedroom. The instant she heard his footsteps disappear down the hallway, she sprung into action.

First she surveyed her surroundings. Duncan's room was relatively small, with only the basic essentials: a bed, desk, dresser, and a small bedside table. The bed was more like a cot, since there was no headboard or footboard on it. It had a white, lumpy mattress with piles and piles of white bedsheets. Courtney climbed onto the bed to get a better look at the boarded up window. She could only see outside through some thin cracks between the wooden boards. Courtney stuck her fingers between one of the cracks and yanked hard. The nails creaked and strained as Courtney kept pulling.

At last, the wood came off the window in one final yank, causing Courtney to fly off the bed and onto the hardwood floor. "Shit!" Courtney hissed, rubbing her head where it hit the ground. She looked at the wooden board in her hand - it still had nails protruding from it. _The perfect weapon. _She paused on the floor, listening for gangsters outside the door that may have heard the loud clump of her falling on the floor. Courtney heard nothing, so she jumped back onto the bed and peered outside. She was on the opposite side of the apartment building from the fire escape. Courtney looked down four stories to the dark alley beneath her. If she broke the window, there would be no way down except to jump and break her bones in the process. She was't that desperate - yet.

There had to be other things in his room that could be useful to her! Courtney stood up and began ripping the sheets off the bed and throwing them onto the floor. She searched every corner of the bed and the only thing she found was a lacy black thong that had fallen under the bed. It was probably from some flapper girl that the gangsters had hired. Courtney curled her lip and moved on to the bedside table. There was just a small alarm clock and a lamp on top and Courtney took the little drawer out, shaking the contents onto the mattress.

Finally. A small pocketknife was amongst the clutter that fell out of the drawer, along with a few random wood shavings here and there. Courtney put down the wooden board and grabbed the pocketknife. She flipped up the blade, admiring its shiny metallic reflection.

Suddenly she heard footsteps coming from the hallway towards Duncan's door. _He's coming for me, _Courtney thought. She quickly tiptoed behind the door, the pocketknife firmly held in her sweaty palm. She was ready to pounce and attack once Duncan opens the door. She would _not _be held captive - she was Courtney Pembrooke for fuck's sake! She was going back home to her penthouse suite no matter what it took.

Courtney heard the door chain rattle on the outside as the door was locked. She raised the pocketknife a little higher, and it glinted in the sun from the window. The doorknob jiggled and slightly turned.

After all, desperate times call for desperate measures.


	3. Terrible Mistake

As the door to Duncan's bunk room opened, Courtney jumped out from behind the door and lunged the pocketknife towards the hand on the doorknob. The blade of the pocketknife sunk between the finger bones of the gangster who opened the door. It was not Duncan - there were two gangsters dressed in the same white-button-up-with-black-tie-and-black-dress-pants attire. He cried out in pain and yanked his hand away from the doorknob, stumbling into Duncan's dresser in the corner. Courtney dropped the pocketknife to the floor in shock that she had actually stabbed somebody.

However, she snapped out of it once the second gangster grabbed her wrist in a painfully tight grip. Adrenaline coursed through her body as if she were a caged animal just a few inches away from escape. Courtney widened her mouth and bit down hard on the man's forearm. He tried to grab a chunk of her hair to pull her away, but Courtney bit down harder and harder until the man shouted and pushed her away from him. She landed on her back on the floor and quickly stood up.

The man whom she stabbed reached out with his good hand to take hold of Courtney's dress, preventing her escape. But Courtney simply grabbed his black tie in both of her hands and yanked downwards, while she simultaneously bent her leg to knee him in the face. He fell to the ground with a bloody nose and Courtney spun around to make a break-away for the door. The other gangster leapt in front of her to block her path, although Courtney snapped her foot up to kick him in the crotch with her high heels. As he fell to the ground, Courtney stepped over his body into the hallway to find herself facing none other than Duncan.

He was standing at the end of the hallway, blocking the stairway with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Courtney froze in her tracks, not daring to confront him. She no longer had the element of surprise to her advantage. However, she still took this moment to put her hands on her curvy hips and to lift her chin, looking him straight in the eye.

"What are ya doin' causing all this noise, Princess? I thought I toldja to stay outta trouble," Duncan stated in that deep voice of his. He slowly started walking towards her, slightly leaning his head to the side to peer around her at his two fellow gang members that were writhing on the ground in pain. "But clearly you didn't do as you were told."

"Why would I listen to the orders from a Neanderthal such as yourself?" Courtney retorted, not moving even though Duncan had stepped forward to be just a foot away from her - although she did have to lift her gaze to continue to glare at him.

"Do I not scare you?" Duncan asked, a smirk slowly crossing his face. He slightly leaned down, pressing his face closer to Courtney's. She rolled her eyes at his attempt to intimidate her, although her heart was beginning to beat faster.

"Me? Frightened by the likes of _you_?" she scoffed. Courtney leaned closer to Duncan, mocking him. Their faces were now mere inches away from each other. In a lower voice, Courtney continued, "You'll have to do better than that." Courtney nodded her heads towards the gangsters that were picking themselves up off the floor of Duncan's bedroom. "They were much too easy for me to handle."

With that, Courtney leaned backwards once more to assess Duncan's reaction. To him, Courtney appeared to be an incompetent girly-girl, with her nearly non-existent muscle tone, extravagant sense of style, short stature and tiny frame. But by now, Duncan had realized she was more than that. Courtney watched him eye her from head to toe, taking in her messed-up hair, torn dress, and blood-smeared hands. She had a bruise forming around her thin wrist in the shape of fingers, where one gangster had tried to grab her. Most importantly, there was a spark in her wide onyx eyes. It was a spark that meant she was wild, outspoken, and unpredictable.

And that could be a problem.

"You have made a terrible mistake of kidnapping me, Mister Malone," Courtney whispered mischievously.

This made Duncan step towards her, closing the gap between them. He leaned down to put his mouth right next her her ear. She smelled like some fancy perfume that Duncan had never smelled before. "Well you _should _be afraid of me," he growled. Duncan stood up and breezed past her, into his bedroom. But he was able to catch a glance of a bright red blush rising up on Courtney's lightly freckled cheeks.

"Can you two not fucking control a girl that barely weighs 100 pounds?" Duncan griped as he stalked past the gangsters that were standing ashamedly in a corner of his room. He walked over to his uncovered mattress, where the contents of his bedside drawer had been emptied on top of. He snatched up his car keys and, without even glancing at the two men, demanded, "This mess better be cleaned up by the time we're back."

Courtney, who was still standing in the hallway, watched Duncan as he walked out of his bedroom and down the hallway. He walked to a closed door at the end of the hallway, next to the door that led to the stairwell. Courtney was unsure as to whether she should follow him to avoid trouble or hide in one of the other rooms while he still had his back to her. "Well?" Duncan called out behind him while opening the door, "Are ya comin'?"

"Well I suppose I have no other choice," Courtney grumbled and peered into the door that he had opened as she approached him. The room was a large walk-in closet approximately the size of Courtney's own closet. She gasped in amazement that these gangsters would have such a massive quantity of high-fashion clothes. Courtney quickly entered the closet and ran her fingertips along the fabrics as she walked past - she even recognized some of her favorite designers. "Why do you have all this?"

"Ohh, it's all just stuff we've, uh, collected ova the years... We need it to re-dress the girls that stay the night with us the mornin' after, if ya know what I mean," Duncan answered her, leaning against the doorframe with a wink. Courtney wrinkled her nose in disgust, but remained mesmerized by the gorgeous dresses.

Courtney pulled out a dress and held it up to her frame. "How convenient - just my size!" she exclaimed, then excitedly continued to search through the racks of clothing. "What - what is this? But these are _all _the same size." Courtney turned her confused gaze to Duncan for an answer.

Duncan shrugged. "Let's just say my buddies and I have some strict... _qualifications_ for any girl we take home," he replied, using his hands to outline the curves of a woman in the air in front of him. Then he chuckled at the disgusted expression that took over Courtney's face and the shudder that overtook her body.

"Ugh! You ogre!"

But Duncan simply waved his hand at her with an even larger smirk on his face and said, "Yea yea, just be happy that ya meet the qualifications." Courtney's jaw dropped at Duncan's audacity to say something of the sort to her. He chuckled as he stepped out of the closet with Courtney still glaring at him. As he shut the door to give her privacy to change, he continued, "Just be quick, darling. Time to get this show on the road."

Once the door was completely shut, Courtney fervently shook her head and she chose a black, silky dress. The dark color was well-suited for her mood, since there were currently dozens of offensive thoughts of Duncan swirling through her mind. She stepped out of her ripped blue dress and pulled the black one over her head. There was a full-length mirror located conveniently at the end of the closet. Courtney walked up to the mirror and spun in her black high heels, analyzing her reflection.

The dress had 3/4-sleeves and a high neckline. She examined her waist, which was accentuated by the fabric that fanned out from her hips. The dress ended just above her knees - a little high, in Courtney's opinion. Luckily she was able to find black knee-high tights in one of the many drawers in the closet. Just as Courtney was finger-combing her tangled hair, Duncan opened the closet door.

Courtney watched Duncan give her the once-over, letting his gaze linger a little too long on her slender legs. Courtney felt her face heating up once more and she was glad that she put on the tights. "Ready, Princess?" Duncan finally asked, looking her straight in the eyes. Courtney was too embarrassed from being so obviously checked out that she had to avert her eyes.

"About as ready as I'll ever be," she mumbles to the rug on the floor. Duncan led Courtney into the stairwell and they climbed down a couple flights of stairs to the first floor. When Courtney emerged with Duncan into the main lobby, she felt dozens of pairs of eyes settle on her.

Courtney knew that the Chicago gangsters were the pimps that organized the prostitution rings in the downtown area. Suddenly she felt extremely vulnerable, so she quickened her pace to keep up with Duncan. She could hear several gangsters let out low whistles towards her, and she heard one of them murmur, "Whatta dame."

Finally Duncan grabbed his fedora and an umbrella that was hanging from the coat rack, and he opened the front door. _Finally I am out of here_, Courtney thought with a sigh. The storm had finally rolled into town and it was pouring down rain. Duncan held the umbrella over Courtney's head in silence as they walked down the front steps that led into the apartment and into the alley on the side of the building. They approached a black Ford Model T car and Duncan opened the passenger side door to let Courtney in. Once she was inside, Duncan shut the door for her and closed the umbrella. _At least he has some manners. _As Courtney sat in the car, she watched Duncan tip his fedora downwards to keep the rain out of his face as he walked around the front of the car.

"Where are you taking me?" Courtney demanded the instant that Duncan got settled into the driver's seat. He placed the wet umbrella in the backseat of the car and rolled his shoulders to unstick his damp button-up from his torso. Courtney noticed the way his shirt clung to his chest and biceps, although she brushed this thought out of her mind as soon as it came.

"I'm gonna show ya just how dangerous I am," Duncan replied with a grim expression, turning the keys to start the car. To Courtney, who was used to riding in her father's Model T, Duncan's car engine seemed to be much quieter. He gently pressed on the gas pedal and they turned out of the parking lot.

"Now what do you mean by that?" Courtney asked. She looked out the car window and the buildings were flashing by at a quicker pace. Duncan was making the car go much, much faster than she was used to - faster than she even knew cars were able to drive. She dug her nails into the armrests of the car. "What have you done to this car?!"

"Ohh, some motor work," Duncan answered vaguely with a smug smile. Courtney realized that Duncan meant he had turned a normal Model T into one of the illegal racecars that the gangsters drove to outrun the police. She gulped and watched her surroundings pass her by. She attempted to memorize the direction that Duncan was driving, although it was hard to keep track of where they were going when Courtney did not know this part of downtown Chicago.

The windshield wipers whisked back and forth across the windshield as the rain kept pouring down. Duncan slowed the car to a halt next to a roadside ditch that had a shallow stream of rainwater collecting within it. "Here we are, Princess... Dis plainclothes detective was killed by my gang just da other day," Duncan explained, nodding towards the dark body that was strewn in an unnatural position in the ditch, "He was sneakin' information for the cops, so this is what he got. Wheneva my buddies and I kill a man for sumthin' like dis, we cut his penis off while he's still alive to embarrass him and take away his masculinity. Then we leave it in his hand for the cops to see when they take da body."

Courtney stared through the rain at the man laying in the ditch. The man's suit was rumpled and a dark red blood stain was soaked through his white dress shirt. There was also a dark blob near the vicinity of his hand, although Courtney paid little attention to that. Lightning flashed in the sky, momentarily reflecting off the gold detective's badge pinned to the man's chest. Duncan pulled away from the curb on the way to his next location.

Throughout their drive, Duncan would point out certain locations of where he has shot rival gang members, as if he were reminiscing his memories. Courtney refused to reply to anything Duncan mentioned, but she simply looked out the window with her forehead pressed against the cool glass. They drove down a road towards Lake Michigan and stopped at the end of a wooden pier that led out to the water.

By now, it was evening and Courtney was certain that her parents were missing her. Certainly there would be a search party out for her by tomorrow, at least. The moon reflected off the choppy lake water and lit up the pier. Near the end of the pier was a dark rectangular object with a pile of rope on top of it.

"Now if someone really fucks my gang over, dey get thrown in da lake. We tie a cinder block around their ankles and toss 'em in - and we always keep spares at da end of da pier for just in case," Duncan explained, slowly nodding. Then he cocked his head as if he were pondering something, and paused in this position for a couple seconds.

"Ya know, darling, it's kinda funny... At first when we capture a rival gangster, dey still try to act tough to be loyal to their gang. But once me and my guys tell 'em they're goin' for a swim, dey start wailin' like a baby," Duncan commented with a chuckle. He glanced at Courtney, whose delicate jawline was clenched as she glared into the falling rain. "Are ya scared of me yet, Princess?"

Courtney slowly turned to face Duncan. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight and she blinked at him with her thick eyelashes, contemplating how to voice what she was thinking. "Well," she began in a soft voice, "I am horrified at what you have done to people. And I must be honest that I have worried that I might fall victim to your criminal behavior as well. But I am most angry that you have kidnapped me and taken me away from my previous life into a life like... this." Courtney motioned to the rope and cinder block laying on the end of the pier. "But on the other hand..."

"What ain't scary about me?" Duncan demanded. Courtney was the first person who has ever hinted that Duncan, the mob boss of Log Cabin, was not scary. This was not only insulting for him, but it also intrigued him that Courtney was unable to be intimidated by him. Courtney simply shrugged and looked at her hands in her lap.

"Why did you save my life?"


	4. Two Can Play at That Game

_Beginning of Flashback_

_Duncan and one of his fellow gang members, Arturo, were walking down the sidewalk several blocks away from the Log Cabin warehouse. They were on their way to the butcher's shop, where their friend Camilla worked with her father. Camilla would often give the boys from Log Cabin a free meal, which was much appreciated by the gangsters. Although Log Cabin was an extremely wealthy mafia, the gangsters did not have very good housekeeping skills. The stock of food in their kitchen was almost always low, since they often spent their majority of income on cars, liquor, and girls._

_Duncan and Arturo easily navigated the crowd of pedestrians like they have their whole life. The two gangsters grew up in downtown Chicago and gradually got to know each other as the mafia rose in power. The gang life was the only successful way of life for those that were born into poverty. It was the only way to make a name and a reputation for themselves, even if it meant constantly putting their lives in danger._

_Screeching tires sounded from behind them, and Duncan instinctively grabbed his pistol from the waistband of his pants and ducked into an alley. Pedestrians around him and Arturo screamed, although for Duncan, being shot at was a daily occurrence. Duncan peered through the crowd at a Model T that was stopped at the curb across the street. A rival gangster leaned out the back window and sprayed gunfire from his Tommy gun. _

_Bullets reverberated off the metal trash can that Arturo was crouched behind. "Ah, fuck me!" Arturo exclaimed, cringing with each clang of a bullet and praying not to get shot. Duncan peered around the corner of a brick building from his position in the alley. He was able to fire some shots at the car so the man stopped shooting at Arturo and aimed his gun at Duncan. Arturo leaned around the trash can and started shooting at the gangster in the car. _

_The driver of the Model T finally peeled out from the curb and began driving away. Duncan stayed in the alley while bullets chipped the brick in the front of the building. Once the gunfire stopped, Duncan ran out of the alley and grabbed Arturo's shirt collar, pulling him to his feet. "Get the fuck up, we gotta go!" Duncan shouted at him. They sprinted down the street, chasing after the retreating vehicle. Pedestrians that were crouched on the sidewalk uncovered their heads and stared at the gangsters as they ran by._

_The car turned a corner up ahead of them, so Duncan and Arturo took a shortcut down an alley to hopefully intersect the car's path. As they exited the alley on the next block, the Model T swung around the corner to their direction just as Duncan had predicted. Arturo immediately raised his pistol and began shooting towards the advancing car. As soon as Arturo's gunshots were fired, Duncan heard a high-pitched scream louder than any other pedestrians._

_He spun around to see a gorgeous young woman in the middle of the crosswalk, right where the gangster's car was headed. She was obviously out of place in downtown Chicago, with her silky chestnut hair and expensive-looking dress that hugged all of her womanly features just right. Duncan began sprinting towards the girl without any hesitation. He shoved pedestrians out of his way, yelling "Move! Move!" as he did so. _

_Duncan ran out into the middle of the road and tackled the girl out of the way, cutting her off in mid-scream. Time seemed to slow down as they fell towards the sidewalk on the other side of the road. Duncan could feel the hot breaths of the girl right in his ear and they landed hard on the cobblestone ground. Barely a second or two went by before the Model T zoomed past the place where the girl was just standing._

_End of Flashback_

"Well?" Courtney prodded Duncan, who was just staring out the windshield. "Why did you save my life, Mister Malone?"

"I don't have a reason for everything I do, Princess," Duncan replied, slowing turning the car away from the pier and down the tree-lined road back to town. Duncan hadn't realized how far away they had drove, but they were about an hour away from Log Cabin.

"But you could have just as easily let me be killed by that racecar."

"What can I say, I must have an attraction to stunning babes like you," Duncan said with a wink. But Courtney just rolled her eyes and turned to look out the window. Clearly she would be unable to get a straight answer from Duncan about why he had saved her, since all he would do is give her a smart-ass comeback. She leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the window, suddenly feeling overwhelmed about the events of the day.

Duncan kept driving towards Chicago, raindrops glimmering in the light from the headlights as they fell. He glanced at Courtney in his peripheral vision, whose eyelids were closed. Her head kept nodding then bouncing back up as she struggled to remain awake. After 20 minutes, Courtney finally fell asleep, slumped against the car door with her chestnut hair draped in front of her face.

He drove the rest of the way into the city in silence, except for the soft breathing from Courtney. Duncan slowly pulled into the empty lot, parking right next to the Log Cabin building. He got out of the car and walked around to the passenger's side door. By now it had stopped raining, but everything around them was wet and reflecting the streetlights.

Duncan grabbed the door handle and slowly opened the car door, careful of Courtney, who was still fast asleep and leaning against the door. He barely opened the door a crack and he slid into the small space to reach for Courtney. He slipped one arm under her shoulders and another arm under the crook of her knees. Duncan lifted her up bridal-style and out of the car, shutting the door shut with his foot.

Courtney's head lolled back, prominently displaying the pearl necklace around her thin, elegant neck. Her chestnut brown hair draped over his arm and swayed back and forth as Duncan carried her up the concrete steps to the front door of Log Cabin. Duncan nodded at a fellow Log Cabin member who was standing by the side of the front door. He was slightly swaying from side to side, clearly wasted, and Duncan guessed he had stepped outside to puke.

But the gangster, seeing Duncan's hands were full, opened the door for him and nodded at his boss. Duncan stepped into Log Cabin and once again kicked the door shut behind him. The first floor was packed with gangsters and flappers, as well as a mini jazz band that was playing in the corner.

Duncan received several winks and shouts of "Yeahh, Duncan!" as he headed for the staircase. Clearly his friends all thought he had taken advantage of Courtney, but Duncan couldn't risk his mob leader reputation by telling them the truth. So he shifted his hand to squeeze Courtney's perfectly round ass through the fabric of her dress, which produced several cheers from the drunken gangsters.

Duncan had finally reached the stairs and he started climbing to the fourth floor. Luckily Courtney wasn't very heavy and Duncan was already physically fit to start with. Although he was quite surprised that she hadn't woken up from the noise from the party and the jazz band; he reasoned that Courtney must be an extremely heavy sleeper.

He reached the floor with the hallway of bedrooms and carried Courtney all the way to Duncan's own room. As they walked down the hallway and past closed doors, Duncan could hear the several low-pitched murmurs of gangsters, flirtatious giggles from flappers, and moaning. It was no question what they were doing.

Duncan slightly lifted his hand to turn the doorknob of his room, still holding Courtney in his arms. He entered his room, which had finally been cleaned of the mess that Courtney made while trying to escape. His bed had been remade, so he gently laid Courtney down on top of his crisp white bedsheets. Her hair fanned out on his pillow and she let out a peaceful sigh.

For some reason, Courtney's sigh sent some inappropriate thoughts through Duncan's head. He knew he was a perverted person, but it wasn't often that only a simple sigh could turn him on like that. He shook his head to clear himself of those thoughts and he gently unstrapped her black heels, taking them off for her and setting them on the floor by the bed.

He desperately wanted to go downstairs to the party and drink until he passed out, which was a weekly occurrence for him. Duncan drank close to every day, but weekends consisted of continuous partying at Log Cabin. Duncan leaned against his closed bedroom door and slid to a seated position. He groaned, took off his fedora, and ran his fingers through his hair.

He knew there was no way for him to leave Courtney, even if she was asleep, because she may try to escape again; and there were no other gangsters on the fourth floor that were unoccupied at the moment to take over for Duncan.

Duncan sat on the floor for forty-five minutes, watching Courtney's chest slowly rise and fall in her sleep. He eventually began to get tired from sitting in such a quiet room, so he tilted his head back against the door and shut his eyes. In no time, Duncan fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Courtney laid wide awake.

She kept her eyes closed, however, so she would appear to still be asleep if Duncan wasn't quite asleep yet. After another half hour, Courtney was sure that Duncan was fully asleep. She opened her eyes and grinned mischievously.

Courtney quietly climbed out of his bed, making sure the springs in the mattress did not squeak. She could hear the headboard banging against the wall in another gangster's room, while they were apparently having some intense sex. Courtney felt repulsed and desperately wanted to be back in her penthouse suite and asleep in her canopy bed.

She tiptoed across the room to where Duncan was sleeping, propped up against the door. Courtney bit her lip, wondering how she would be able to get out of his room without him knowing. She hadn't really thought of this situation when she came up with her second plan for escape. Courtney reached out for the doorknob, planning on yanking it open and shoving Duncan to the side.

Suddenly, Duncan's hand snapped up and grabbed Courtney's wrist hard. She gasped in surprise and let go of the doorknob, but Duncan didn't release her.

"Not so fast, Princess."

"But I thought you were asleep!" Courtney exclaimed as Duncan stood up and glared at her, angry that she had tried to escape yet again, right after he had just shown her all the things he had done to people. It was clear to him that Courtney thought she had nothing to lose with all her reckless behavior. It was better for her to risk the consequences of being caught trying to escape than to willingly live at Log Cabin for who knows how long.

"I knew that _you _were pretending to be asleep," Duncan lied. He had honestly thought Courtney was asleep, but thankfully he was a light sleeper and he heard her hand touch the doorknob. "So two can play at that game."

Courtney's jaw was dropped open, appalled that he already knew what her plan was when she was pretending to be asleep for hours. Her mouth closed and her lips tightened into a straight line due to frustration. "Well _fine_!"

She kicked her leg out and made contact between his legs. Duncan unwillingly let go of Courtney's wrist to grab his crotch as he crumpled to the ground. "Ohh...," Duncan groaned, causing Courtney to let out a giggle of satisfaction. She whipped open the door of his bedroom and started running for the staircase to freedom.

"That's what you get for grabbing my ass, you Neanderthal!" she sung out behind her.


	5. Shirley Temple

Courtney barged through the heavy door into the stairwell and started racing down the steps towards freedom. She looked behind her through the space between the door that was swinging shut and saw Duncan slowly picking himself up off his bedroom floor. She gulped, knowing he would soon be pursuing her. Courtney jumped from the fifth stair onto the staircase landing and began to descend down the next flight of stairs. She was glad Duncan took off her high heels so she could move faster in her bare feet.

With only one more flight of stairs to go, Courtney finally heard the stairwell door slam open and heavy footsteps above her. She sped up her pace and reached the first floor, shoving open the door and entering into the party.

She suddenly felt overwhelmed by the large amount of people crammed into the wide room. To her right, in the corner of the room, was a brass band playing loud music that reverberated in her chest. Flappers did the can-can on the short stage next to the band, smiling broadly with their matching bright red lips while their short dresses flipped up and revealed their white underwear.

Courtney slipped into the crowd, holding her breath as she squeezed past a tall, muscular gangster who was breathing out a cloud of thick smoke. The party was full of flapper-esque girls with short dresses, pin-curled hair in a bob, and tights with black lines going down the backs of their legs. The gangsters were flirting with the flappers and also passing out drinks to everybody. All the people at the party looked extremely intoxicated to Courtney.

The people on the dancefloor, however, intrigued her. She snuck closer to the space in the middle of the room that had been cleared out for the dancers, who were twirling and dipping and shimmying with their partners. She could tell that some of them were drunk by the way they would stumble a bit after spinning or how they had to fumble for their partner's hand, but the others were such good dancers that she could hardly tell.

She cautiously looked over her shoulder at the door to the stairwell and saw Duncan standing in the doorway. He was scanning the crowd, apparently looking for her. She lightly gasped and shifted to her left to hide behind a chubby-looking girl that was smoking a cigarette with a long, black cigarette holder attached to it.

Courtney had to get across the room to the front door, but the only way to the other side was by crossing the dancefloor. Courtney decided she would attempt to cross at the end of the song when the dancers split up and try to find a new partner so that it would be less obvious that she was making a beeline for the front door.

Finally the song ended, although the second she took a step onto the dancefloor, a gangster held out his hand to her and asked, "Would you like to dance, Miss?"

Courtney inwardly groaned, but put on a fake smile and took the man's hand. She couldn't be rude - she was raised better than that. And at least he had some manners, despite the fact that he was drunk, which she could tell from his glassy stare.

As they stepped out onto the dancefloor, Courtney rationalized that maybe while they were dancing they could navigate towards the other side of the dancefloor so that Courtney could be even closer to the front door at the end of this song. She put her hand on his shoulder as the gangster put his hand on her upper back and they held hands. The band began another song, much faster than any of the songs she had danced to at any of her father's business galas.

She attempted to speed up the dance moves she already knew in order to keep up with the gangster, who wasn't a very good leader for her. He was too drunk to notice her feet shuffling to keep up with him. He just had a lazy smile on his face and he was looking around the room over Courtney's head.

She rolled her eyes at the gangster and accidentally made eye contact with Duncan from across the room.

"Ohhh no," Courtney whispered almost inaudibly and ducked her head while she danced. She suddenly felt extremely self-conscious with her dancing, but that was nothing compared to her partner's condition. He accidentally backed into the couple dancing behind them and he dropped Courtney's hand, leaving her awkwardly standing in the middle of the dancefloor with dancing couples all around her.

Duncan was immediately by Courtney's side and asked, "May I step in?" The gangster quickly nodded his head and ran off the dancefloor to puke in the corner of the room. Duncan turned to face Courtney, slightly shaking his head at her. "You are somethin' else, ya know that?" he told her, holding out her heels. Clearly Duncan hadn't planned on her getting that far away from him.

Courtney took her heels from him and put them on the ground to slip her feet into them, while Duncan held her elbow to stabilize her. "You frustrate me," Courtney grumbled once her heels were back on. Duncan put one of his hands on her lower back and stuck his empty hand out in the air. This caused Courtney to glare at him, but he just pulled her closer.

"Don't cause a scene, Princess," Duncan said and gave her a warning look, "C'mon, just dance with me." His teal eyes twinkled down at her.

Courtney wasn't about to make him beg, so she placed her hand on his shoulder and put her hand in his. Duncan's hand nearly enveloped her small hand, but he held her gently. The band began playing a new song, one that was a bit slower than the last and was more Courtney's type of style.

Duncan soon began swaying her back and forth, being a good leader by lightly pressing her back with his hand in the direction that they were about to go. "Who knew an ogre like you would know how to dance," Courtney spoke up with a small, teasing smile.

"Thanks, doll. But you need to loosen up," Duncan commanded with a smirk, "Have a little fun for once in your life, don't be so formal."

A confused look clouded Courtney's face and she retorted, "But I don't know how to dance for fun."

With this, Duncan raised her hand in the air and spun her around. He watched her hair wave in the wind and the hem of her dress to spin out. Duncan reached out with his other hand to grab her after the spin and pull her back to him. "I can help ya learn," he offered, noticing the pink flush of excitement that had already rose in Courtney's cheeks.

She opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment Duncan bent his knee and swooped her down, dipping her close to the floor. Courtney's let out a squeak of surprise as she tightened her grip on Duncan's hand and cocked one of her knees in the air. He lowered his face close to hers, enjoying how flustered Courtney was becoming. Duncan kept his face within close proximity of hers as he slowly pulled her back to a standing position and they resumed dancing.

"Oh my goodness," Courtney breathed, the flustered look still on her face. Duncan chuckled as they swayed through the crowd in time with the music. Courtney could feel the reverberation of Duncan's laugh through his chest because he was holding her so close against him as they danced.

The song ended so Courtney dropped Duncan's hand and lowered her other hand from his shoulder. Duncan released Courtney's hand as well, but he kept his other hand on the small of her back. "Can I get you a drink, Princess?" he asked her with a smirk, leading her off the dancefloor.

With the mention of alcohol, suddenly another plan for escape popped into Courtney's mind.

"I'd love that," she said with a smile and allowed him to help her navigate through the crowd and through an open doorway into the kitchen. There were several people mulling about, staggering around the kitchen to gather more liquor to bring back to the party area. Courtney stood by the bar as Duncan walked behind it and began collecting bottles, glasses, and extra materials to place on the bar in front of her.

"Do ya want anything specific, darlin'?" Duncan asked. He poured himself a quick shot of whiskey and knocked it back before beginning work on Courtney's drink.

"Probably nothing too strong...," Courtney trailed off after wrinkling her nose at the smell of hard liquor. She hadn't tried any kind of alcohol except for wine at special occasions or champagne at her father's business gatherings. But since Prohibition, there was no more drinking at any of her high-class parties since alcohol had been outlawed.

"I figured dat. Good thing I know how ta make girly drinks, huh?" Duncan asked with a smirk in her direction. Courtney rolled her eyes at him but had a smile on her face. She propped her elbows up on the bar and watched Duncan add grenadine, lime juice, orange juice, and ginger ale into a large glass.

Then Duncan poured in approximately two shots of vodka and plopped in a cherry, which sunk to the bottom. "We're all outta maraschino cherries... Naughty Shirley Temple?" he offered, holding it out to her. Courtney took the glass from him and tentatively tasted it with a small sip.

"This is pretty nice!" Courtney gushed, "And I can barely taste the alcohol, thank you." She still could not believe she was drinking alcohol and thus breaking the law, but if she couldn't taste the alcohol then she could push that fact out of her mind. It was all just part of her new escape plan.

"No problem, Princess. But watch yourself," Duncan warned with a wink. Courtney wasn't quite sure what Duncan meant by that, but she smiled again as he took another shot of whiskey. As long as he kept drinking, her plan was going fine. She wanted Duncan to get so drunk that Courtney would finally be able to run away without him noticing.

Duncan grabbed a short glass and filled it halfway with ice, pouring in some honey-colored scotch. "Mister Malone-," Courtney began, but was cut off by Duncan.

"Call me Duncan."

"Well alright, _Duncan_... How did you become a gangster anyway?"

Duncan circled his wrist, swirling the scotch around and causing the ice cubes to clink against the glass. "There really wasn't any other option for me," Duncan said, shrugging his shoulders. "I was adopted by Uncle Al after a tenement fire that killed my parents when I was ten. I was stayin' out late, like always, with my friends and when I went home... Well, my home was in flames."

"Oh, Duncan, I'm so sorry!"

"It's nuthin' to be sorry about, Princess," Duncan replied with a small smirk. He took a swig of his scotch and continued, "Uncle Al taught me to be who I am today. Without 'im, I probably woulda turned out dirt poor juss like my parents."

Duncan put his glass of scotch down on the counter and picked up his shot glass once more, pouring it to the brim with whiskey. Courtney reached out and stole it from him, something she never would have attempted at her father's business parties. Duncan raised his eyebrows at her, impressed that she was breaking out of her shell. "Damn, Princess, are ya sure you wanna take a shot with me?" he asked, reaching under the bar for another shot glass.

He made himself a shot of whiskey and held it in the air. Courtney did the same, and they clinked their glasses together. Duncan noticed her hesitation, however, so he advised, "Just take a deep breath then swallow it all." He pushed Courtney's Shirley Temple closer to her. "And you may want a chaser. This is 80 proof."

Courtney had yet again no idea what that meant, but she nodded and took a deep breath before she could change her mind. She lifted the glass to her lips and tilted her head all the way back, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she felt the alcohol burn down her throat. She was on a mission for escape, so she had to suck it up.

Courtney slammed the shot glass down on the bar with a loud clack and she looked at Duncan, who had already taken his shot without the use of a chaser. Duncan had an amused grin on his face and he pointed to her Shirley Temple. "Drink, girl!" he commanded, noticing the harsh grimace on her face due to the overwhelmingly strong taste of hard liquor.

She immediately grabbed her drink and gulped some down until her glass was nearly empty. "Oh my goodness, that tasted like... Like what I'd imagine rubbing alcohol to taste like!" she exclaimed, taking another smaller sip of her drink.

This made Duncan let out a laugh that was so contagious, Courtney couldn't help but smile back at him even though he was laughing at her. "I bet it's nuthin' like what you're used to," he said, refilling his scotch glass. Courtney took the last sip of her Shirley Temple and fished out the cherry from the bottom of the glass with her hand. She plucked off the stem and placed it in her mouth, scooting the empty glass across the bar to Duncan.

He watched her with interest as she roved the cherry stem around in her mouth. Duncan poured the ingredients for a second Shirley Temple into her glass and plopped in another cherry. He scooted the full Shirley Temple towards Courtney, who casually removed the cherry stem from her mouth and politely said, "Thank you."

"Holy shit, Princess, you look so innocent! Where'd ya learn to do that?" Duncan asked, pointing to the cherry stem sitting on the bar that had a tight knot in its middle.

"Oh, just at school. I go to a girl's private school, so we learn a lot of tricks like that," Courtney said simply, shrugging. "So... where's your Uncle Al now?"

Duncan cockily shook his head. "I can't tell ya that."

He walked around the bar and put his hand on the small of Courtney's back once more, and they walked to a corner of the room that was empty of partiers. Courtney was beginning to feel lightheaded, so she didn't walk as straight as she normally would sober. Duncan sat down in a cushioned chair with padded armrests, holding his glass of scotch on one of the armrests.

He patted his knee for Courtney to take a seat in his lap, but instead Courtney sat on the other armrest and daintily crossed her legs. Duncan put his arm around Courtney's waist and took a sip of his scotch.

"And why not?" she asked.

Duncan raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to Courtney. "My _Uncle Al _is actually _Al Capone_. Nobody knows of his whereabouts, not even me. I only see 'im if he gives me a call to say he's on da way to Log Cabin for a visit," Duncan explained, watching Courtney's big brown eyes widen. She had the glassy stare of someone who was starting to get drunk.

"Oh my, I had no idea," she said in a breathy voice. Suddenly Courtney felt herself tilting backwards, so she quickly sat up, sloshing a bit of her Shirley Temple on the floor. The alcohol was having a stronger effect on her than she thought it would in this short amount of time. Courtney placed her drink on the coffee table so she wouldn't spill any more.

Courtney placed one hand on Duncan's shoulder for more stability on the narrow armrest so she wouldn't fall off. She had a small smile on her face from the pleasant feeling the alcohol was giving her. Duncan's gaze landed on her full lips that were slightly stained red from the grenadine syrup in the Shirley Temple. He gently pulled her off the armrest and she landed in Duncan's lap with a giggle.

She looked up at Duncan's bright blue-green eyes and smiled a drunken smile. She opened her mouth to ask why he had done that, but before she knew what was happening, Duncan leaned in and pressed his warm lips against hers. Courtney immediately relaxed against his chest, but Duncan pulled away from her as quickly as the kiss had come.

"Should I not have done that?" he asked with a whisper.

The innocent, concerned look on Duncan's face in that moment made Courtney's heart melt. She was amazed at how a gangster with a bad reputation like Duncan could have such stunning features, soft lips, and act so sweet at the same time. But most of all, Courtney was amazed at the way alcohol could make her feel.

Courtney simply smiled and pressed her lips on Duncan's. As they began kissing, Duncan cradled the back of Courtney's head in his hand, intertwining her silky hair between his fingers. He could taste cherry on her tongue and Duncan smirked.


End file.
